


Someday

by stars_fall_on



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Closeted Mickey Milkovich, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mickey Milkovich In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25978513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_fall_on/pseuds/stars_fall_on
Summary: Mickey Milkovich is not in love with Ian Gallagher.He's not.Not at all.Not a bit....Except that he totally is!
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 49
Kudos: 213





	Someday

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this might be the dumbest summary I've ever written, but whatever. It's true, though :D
> 
> Picture s1/s2 Mickey, being fully in closet and scared shitless of his psychotic prick of a dad. Couldn't get this little story out of my head, so I had to write it down. Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> A big thank you and shoutout to my awesome beta @Nicrenkel, who just picked up her WIP "Ain't nobody straight in LA". Go, catch up! (After reading this first:P )

"Come on, what's wrong with Jason Harper, huh?" Mandy asks as they're strolling through the abandoned industrial fields on their way home, her arm hooked into Gallagher's, pulling him forwards.

"Seriously?" the redhead with dumb fucking freckles all over his dumb pale skin asks, raising his dumb red brows at her. "You can't be real, Mandy. The guy's so fucking stupid that he even managed to bang Marisa Jenkins even though everyone knew she got syphilis from his brother Martin. That's just - _ew_!"

He takes a deep drag from his cigarette, letting the burning nicotine consume him for a moment to calm his disrupted mind. 

"You're the worst boyfriend ever!" his sister whines, kicking a stone out of her way in frustration. 

Gallagher chuckles, "I think you mean _best_ boyfriend." He looks down at her fondly, since somehow this ginger never seems to stop growing. Not even in his fucking pants. Goddamn it! " _Thank you, Ian, for not letting me get syphilis,"_ he mimics Mandy's voice. He's good. 

"Asshole."

"Bitch."

Mickey rolls his eyes in the dark of the shielding trees. Somehow he's made a habit out of following Gallagher and his sister around. He keeps telling himself it's just to protect his little sister from sexual assaults, that are happening quite often on this route. But an oppressive feeling around his chest reminds him that it's probably not the only reason. Gallagher is on ROTC training. He's most likely good at defending his sister himself and Mickey's a bit glad that he's protecting his little sister from making stupid fucking decisions like fucking Jason Harper. Goddamn it, Mandy. Even he got the memo that this prick got syphilis, and he isn't even close to school grounds. 

But Mickey would never admit this to either of them. Most of the time not even to himself. 

Still. He can't help it. Day after day he finds himself following these two morons around, when he's not on a run with his brothers or his psychotic prick of a dad. As if he's somehow magnetically drawn to it. _Eh_. Fuck that. He's going after them to protect his bitch of a sister (maybe even this dumb Gallagher kid) and use certain information to his advantage, namely where this dumb Gallagher kid is heading or what his plans are for today. Maybe even if he's fucking someone ~~else~~. 

"You coming over?" Mandy asks as they walk hand in hand down the Zemansky Avenue to their home. 

"Nah, can't. Gonna grab lunch at home and then head back to ROTC practice. Catch up later?" 

"Yeah, sure," his sister smiles brightly and lifts up on her toes to kiss her _boyfriend_ goodbye. Even if it's just a chaste kiss on freckled cheeks, Mickey's stomach keeps reacting to it and the brunet doesn't like it one bit. 

He stomps the cigarette out on the pavement across from his house and watches the redhead running off, grinning his stupidly goofy smile at Mandy while the latter opens the door to the hell that is their home. He decides that his little follow-around has to stop there, since his sister already made it safe inside and he has to keep the limits of his own little lie. It's not about Gallagher. It's not. 

Knowing he has some time left before he needs to be somewhere else, he crosses the street and heads inside their house, finding Mandy already sprawled out on the couch, school bag thrown to the opposite corner. 

"Douchebag," he greets her with all the love he has left.

"Assface." 

"Where's your faggy boyfriend?" 

The brunet girl rolls her eyes in annoyance, "Why do you care?" 

"Don't," he shrugs, going straight to the fridge to take a bottle of beer outside. Popping it open, he downs the first half in one go, the heat of summer plus his pain in the ass of a sister already pissing him off enough. 

"And FYI, the noises he made when I sucked his dick just moments before you came home were far from faggy," she sneers mischievously, hitting him straight in the chest without even knowing it. He knows those noises. ~~He likes those noises~~. _Fuck_. 

Needing to clear his suddenly dried out throat, he downs the second half of the beer and smashes the bottle across from him, failing its goal, while walking into the direction of his room. "Yeah? Tell him to get you off every once in a while, as well, since you're a pain in the ass for all of us." He slams the door shut, punching the air a few more times, before rubbing his face with wet palms. He _knows_ it's shit. He _knows_ it. He's seen Gallagher running off without even entering the house. But still. Mandy's words brought his heart to race and left a bitter smack in his mouth. She's talking about him as if he's _hers_. Fucking hypocrite. 

He's forcing his nerves to calm the fuck down, he's not thinking about a dude he's fucking secretly more than he actually has to. When he wants to get his rocks off, he knows where to find him (a positive side effect of following the kid and Mandy around, definitely not the main reason for all of it). He breathes in deeply, pulling his box of cigarettes out of his pockets and lights one up, letting the pain in his chest give way to the burning sensation in his lungs. He flares his nostrils, while his angry shaking hands slowly steady themselves, pulling on his cigarette. He doesn't know why this shit bothers him so much, why Mandy's words about having sex with Gallagher can always tear him apart. Probably because he envies her for having the illusion. Yeah, Mickey has the real thing, but he can never say it or loud, proclaim it, otherwise he and Gallagher would be dead. Mandy says shit like this all the time and doesn't even have to think twice about it. What a fucking shitshow. 

When the cigarette is down to half, he's pretty sure he's won the control over his body back. That is until he hears his sister's annoying voice again. 

"Don't worry, dear brother, he's giving it to me good and hard and I fucking like it!" 

It's like a punch to his guts, taking his breath away and pulling the rug right under him. He's not used to this. Will never be used to this shit. 

Fucking Mandy! Someday he's going to spit the exact same words into ~~Terry's, her~~ , everyone's face and watch 'em work their way into their system. 

But today's not the day. 

  
  
  


"You fucking my sister?" 

" _What_?" Gallagher' s brows knit together in confusion. 

"Am I slurring my words? You heard me, dick." It comes out rougher than intended, Gallagher probably interpreting an edge of hurt into it that just isn't fucking there. It's _not_. It's just that his nerves are always so fucking blank when he's addressing shit like this. He wishes he doesn't need to do it. Doesn't need to talk about things like that and just let the alien looking kid fuck him and get away. Plain and simple. That's how it should be. That's one of the many rules that Mickey's established. But he finds himself breaking them more often than not, nowadays. 

"You're asking me if I'm fucking your sister, who's being my beard for fucking her brother? Like, you're the beard for my beard?" the kid asks dumbfounded, looking around the bleachers as if he's looking for someone that Mickey's actually talking to. 

"Fuck you!" 

"I'd rather fuck _you_ ," the grin on that freckly face is melting away some ice on Mickey's inside, even though he'd never admit shit like this out loud. But he can't deny that this kid is doing things to him. Fucking fluttery things when he's saying shit like that, or getting close to inhale the smell that's coming off his radiating heat. "That's why you're here, isn't it? Getting fucked?" 

"Calm your tits, firecrotch, I wasn't looking for your dumb ass. I was selling some weed." 

"On school grounds? On a spot close to where I have ROTC training and always are some teachers around?" Gallagher's knowing smirk is pissing him off and he just wants to ~~kiss~~ punch it off his face. 

He's not giving him that. He flips him off and turns around, ~~hoping~~ knowing damn well that he'll go after him and beg him to stay. The kid grew pretty attached to him during the past few months of random hook ups. God knows why. 

"Don't," he says, grabbing his left wrist and sending a spark full of burning fire through his veins, "It's good. I - I know that you sell here."

The brunet hears the pain in Gallagher's voice loud and clear, just like the cracking of his own heart. He hates that he needs to pull shit like this. But he can't let him get even more attached. He'll end up dead. And he's too pretty and a way too good lay to end up as the next dead corpse on Terry Milkovich's list of rolling heads. 

He lets the pleasant warmth of Gallagher's hand around his wrist consume him for 2 seconds, before he snaps it out of his grip and turns around enraged, the mental pictures of a dead Ian Gallagher fucking him up. "You better not mess with my clients and spot," he spits, petending to be worried about his drug deals, when all his sorrows these days are about his sister and her ginger fucking boyfriend, who somehow wormed his way into his life like the dork that he is. 

"I won't," he tells him and he sounds so fucking fragile that Mickey needs to bite his lip, hard. When Gallagher tries to touch him again, going with his huge hand for his chin, it's more than Mickey can take. He spins his head around, avoiding his touch, happy that he doesn't need to see the disappointed look on the redhead's face. He's sure it’s there. He sighs in frustration, "What do you want, Mickey?" 

He turns back around to stare in green, half annoyed, half hurt puppy dog eyes, and goddamn it, since when did Mickey get so fucking soft? 

"Suck my dick," he demands cooly, even though he wanted his voice to be so much colder. Gallagher shouldn't get his hopes up too high. It can never be more than this, ~~even though he wants to give him more.~~

They stare at each other, not blinking once and it feels like an unspoken challenge - Gallagher wanting more and Mickey refusing to give. All or nothing. But the kid isn't dumb. He knows if he won't budge, then Mickey will walk away and won't come back or chase him. ~~Probably~~. 

So after clenching his jaw and jutting out his chin, the redhead huffs another time in frustration, before falling on his knees in front of Mickey and starting to unbuckle his belt. 

Mickey's hands grab the iron bars under the bleachers for leverage, knowing exactly what is about to come and that he's desperately in need of that additional support. There's no reliance on his own balance when Gallagher's going down on him. 

The kid has blown him a few times already, mostly while opening him up, never just for the full event, knowing damn well that the brunet wouldn't let him do the preparation without being distracted by the ~~beautiful~~ mouth stretched around his girth. 

He's a little surprised that he never demanded a return, not even when he got Mickey off by hand. Probably because Mickey let him fuck him afterwards anyways so he'd always got his rocks off, too. And it's very obviously turning him on as well, fucking Mickey while he still jerks through his aftershocks, milking the redhead with his clenching hole, regarding the sounds he emits and the seconds it takes to shoot inside him. 

But Mickey hasn't touched the Gallagher kid once. Never jerked him off or blown him, or even laid his hands on him while they were banging. He won't pretend he's never thought about it, letting his FUCK-U-UP digits trail through ~~silky looking~~ red hair. But he can't allow it. 

His stream of thoughts gets cut off by a wet warmth that's impending around his dick and fingers digging into the flesh of his ass. He didn't even realize he was that hard and ready already moments ago, but even arguing with that stupid fucking dork seems to get him going. Fucking pathetic! 

Even though he wants so desperately to make a sound, maybe even let out a whine, he doesn't. He ~~couldn't~~ would never gift Gallagher the feeling of pleasing him, though it's exactly what he does. But showing him that he likes it, ~~craves it~~ , would leave him a tiny little spot of imagination or even hope. And that he couldn't give him. 

So he stays silent. As always. Only grunting every once in a while when suppressing moans and whines is getting almost painful to bear. But he wouldn't put his hand in fire for the accuracy of this statement, since Gallagher sometimes pounds him half into delirium and everything around him blurs. 

Just like now, when the redhead swirls his tongue around the head of him, the tip teasing his slit right before he fiercely sucks the precome out of it, moaning as if he's never tasted anything better than Mickey. _Fuck_. 

The noises of pleasure around his length send tingling waves through him and he needs to ball his right hand to a fist and stuff it into his mouth to keep the fucking whimpers in. He finds Gallagher blinking up at him, catching him in the useless state of fighting it. The pleasure, ~~the want~~ , the need. It's fucking frustrating. 

The moment their gazes lock and Gallagher's smile around his dick gets cocky, the brunet lets go of the muffling fist and swallows down his sounds. It burns painfully down his throat, but he can't let the pleasure win. It's too risky for him. He's probably already lost his body and soul to the redhead, which will cost him his life sooner or later, no need to drag the freckly kid down with him. It's for the better he's nothing more to him than a quick fuck. A dirty thug. It needs to stay like this. 

Fucking Gallagher and his fucking ability to make him feel things. To arouse thoughts like that while blowing him like a fucking pro. He doesn't want to think about where he got the skills from. Doesn't want to think about where he should put his fucking hand now ~~into~~ , since he ripped it out of his mouth. 

Looking down on the fiery head that's bobbing up and down his rock hard dick, he knows exactly where he wants to put it. Where he would get a tight grip and practice some powerful guidance. And it's as if the other body can sense his inner struggle right now, suddenly deep throating him to throw him completely off the loop, leaving him vulnerable and bare. Because for the tiny moment of his dick jabbing the back of Gallagher's throat for the very first time, he can't help it and lets his hand brush through red locks ~~unconsciously~~ _accidentally_. And Mickey fucking hates himself for knowing that this goddamn hair will be the softest thing he's ever laid hands on; he chides himself for being right. 

But the most brutal part of it all is that Ian Gallagher is looking up at him so damn expectantly that it would tear his soul in two, if he'd had any. But being a Milkovich, he's raised to know better. Milkoviches ~~shouldn't~~ don't give a shit. 

So he keeps fighting it. Keeps telling himself that there are thousands of reasons why he shouldn't touch him, when at the same time there's this obtrusive little voice, trying to persuade him that threading his fingers tightly in his red hair and pulling and pushing him on and off his dick would show his power. It wouldn't make him weak. 

Goddamn it. Fuck it! 

With one hand still wrapped firmly around iron bars, he lets the other one touch Ian Gallagher deliberately for the very first time. It's the most frustrating and wonderful feeling Mickey's ever held inside and for a few pulsing beats he just lets it rest there.

~~So fucking soft~~. 

He hears the redhead humming satisfied, the vibrations tingling from his cock to his balls and tighten his sack, it's overwhelming. At least he manages to keep his noises almost at bay, hoping his little sighs are too inaudible for Gallagher to notice. 

For the three bobs of the kid's head, that his hand is just resting in silk and the slick warmth engulfing his leaking dick, he feels like he is in heaven. That is until Gallagher stops using his mouth wisely and speaks up, "Fuck my face." 

"Fuck you!" 

Fuck Gallagher and his fucking mouth! What's he even thinking? Turning Mickey into his bitch by demanding sexual things? Fuck, no! Mickey's making the rules here, and he's gonna show him what this little talk had brought him. 

In an instant his fingers glide out of his hair and wrap back around iron. The boy on his knees lets out a protesting whine, which again sends tingles straight through his dick. He's not far from coming, even though he was closer just moments ago, when he didn't fight his own hand. 

It doesn't feel like a win, though. He's not only denying the redhead the touch, it also feels like the biggest loss of pleasure for him, either. In order to withstand temptation and his twitching fingers that seem to be magnetically drawn to his hair, he has to muster so much energy that he can barely concentrate on the mind-blowing phenomenon that is Gallagher's mouth around his dick. 

He gives in, hoping that the redhead won't use his weakness against him someday. 

The fingers around the bar loosen, his wet palm starting to fumble in red locks. The boy seems euphoric, sucking him even wilder, untamed. _Fuck_ , if only the brunet's hand on his head can do this, than Mickey Milkovich doesn't want to know the reaction to a kiss. ~~He definitely wants to know.~~

Threading them into fiery hair, it's the moment he loses control and can't help the little thrusts his hips are building. Back and forth and back and forth and in and out and in and out. Mickey's creating the rhythm and it feels fucking amazing. Not that it didn't before, but there's a hint of power guiding their play now, that somehow feels like owning him. He closes his eyes, letting his body act on its own and savoring every roll of his hips, every hit against the back of Gallagher's throat, every whimper and groan around his pulsating length.

God, it feels so good, he doesn't even want to think about how good it feels. His dick's a wet mess in the kid's hot mouth, he feels and hears him slurping and swallowing around him. That's when it hits him that the redhead stopped bobbing. His head stands completely still, while Mickey’s hips work full force fucking his ~~gorgeous~~ mouth. 

Opening his eyes he has to take a look down, needs to see what's happening to recreate the pictures in his memory later and jerk off in private. And holy fucking shit if that isn't the hottest view of all. Gallagher's lips are pink, puffy, wet and well fucked, his chin completely messy. When green eyes peer up, he loses himself completely. 

He starts panting and moaning, while he fists the red hair and slaps his hips forwards. His dick is so far down the other boy's throat, he doesn't know how he's not gagging already. As a hot wave of endorphins rushes through his blood and everything in him prickles, he notices the burning sensation of contacting balls and knows he's reached the edge. 

Tugging on the kid's hair, he pants, "Gonna come," but the boy on his knees doesn't move. He's too far gone from this overwhelming blowjob to bother, even though he usually pulls out of his mouth and finishes on his own. But not today. Not when he grips red hair so tight that he'll probably still find them between his fingers at home and he pushes him on and off his sensitive cock, setting the power and pace. 

Once, two, three more hard thrusts, a finger rubbing dryly at his entrance plus Gallagher's sucking skills and Mickey shoots his load, gripping hair and bar so hard, to not collapse in front of the boy ~~and kiss the shit out of him~~. 

He's gaping, his chest heaving so hard, desperately in need for air, while he keeps thrusting haphazardly and Gallagher keeps swallowing. He doesn't know how many ropes of cum he's giving him, but considering the amount of gulps he's taking, it must be a lot. He groans. Loud, deep and primal, before he stops his movements and lets the kid suck the last remaining drops out of his overstimulated slit. 

Mickey feels beads of sweat trickling down his cheeks, feels useless and boneless, but most of it all completely satisfied. Both gasp a few times, when Gallagher lets him slide out his mouth and Mickey reminds himself to quickly tuck himself back in. There were far too many intimate moments happening now, staying nude would only add to it senselessly. 

Buttoning up, the redhead gets up as well, leaning in and whispering "You taste so good," into Mickey's ear. It sends a shiver down his spine that Mickey doesn't want to ever admit. 

"Fuck off, fag." It comes out less threatening than he wants to, being the reason why he turns around and starts walking away immediately, a content smile tugging on his lips as he's fishing for his cigarettes inside his pockets. 

"You not gonna help me out here?" he hears the kid's pleading voice crying for him, pointing at the tent of his crotch as soon as the brunet turns around one last time. 

He lights his cigarette and inhales deeply, smirking around the nicotine while examining the wet spot on the other boy's pants. Shrugging he says, "Not my fucking problem, Gallagher," and walks away smiling. 

Hearing his frustrated groans in the back of him, he can't detach himself completely from this scene. A furious redhead is a fucking cute redhead, though. And so he just rounds the next corner and turns around, sneaking up on him the second time today. 

While Mickey finishes his cigarette, Gallagher fumbles in his hair defeat, before sucking in a breath and unbuttoning his jeans. Throwing the stub into dust, he bites on his lower lip as he sees the kid packing out his fucking nine inches and spitting into his palm. It's then when he wishes he would've helped him out, or let him pound him another round. A day without this dick in his ass is a wasted day. But Mickey won't complain. He's just had one of the most intense orgasms of his whole life and is now able to watch Gallagher jerk off to the thought of him. 

One hand pressed into an iron bar in front of him, the other one speeds up, his head hanging between his shoulders, his eyes are squeezed shut. But what _really_ gets to Mickey is that he's constantly licking his lips or sucking them in. 

He's jerking off to the taste of Mickey, holy fucking shit. 

Mickey watches him, so turned on from the spectacle in front of him that his dick is twitching in his pants again. He hears the slick sounds echoing from every little tug and knows that the boy must be leaking. He's so turned on from Mickey's taste that he's dripping precome. And if this knowledge isn't the hottest fucking thing on earth than Mickey doesn't know what is. 

He can't stop thinking about _his_ hand being the one around Gallagher's dick, pumping him into oblivion and being the reason for those wonderful sounds that are coming out of his dry throat. 

While the redhead is stroking himself faster and harder and loses himself in thoughts of Mickey, the older boy allows himself for a tiny little moment to fantasize about touching him wherever he wants, kissing him and sucking hickey's into his skin. Marking and claiming him, where no one else has ever been before. Feeling his dick harden again, he's glad that Gallagher has reached the peak, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure and shooting into his own hand with a slight gasp. He's panting so hard while his tongue runs around his lips one last time, before he's fumbling for a tissue and wiping himself clean. ~~God, he wants him~~. 

Shaking his head, the brunet tries to get rid of the images he knows he can never have. At least not now, not when his father is still breathing. Turning around he leaves him with a bitter smack of the aftermath. Again. 

One day, he tells himself, one day he'll kiss this boy and please him without being afraid. He'll run his hands all over his toned body and explore every inch of his pale skin. He'll memorize the freckles of his body like a map that leads to a secret treasure and will find every spot where he's ticklish the most. He'll kiss each and every freckle and his scars, will pinch his nipples and let his tongue trail down his body. He'll take the heavenly nine inches into his mouth and suck him off with full devotion, just like Gallagher did moments ago. He'll let him eat him out and scream his name in pleasure. The first name. His real and beautiful name, that Mickey's yet afraid to say out loud in front of him. It would make everything so much more intimate, and he couldn't allow it. Not now. 

But someday. 

Someday he'll kiss him in a club, on public street, in the mall, in their home. On their wedding day. 

Even if they both may be in their forties when this day will come that Ian Gallagher will officially be his, not Mandy's or any other's. But this day _will_ come. 

This day just isn't today. 

" _Ian_ ," he breathes like a promise to himself, as he steps out of the shielded shadow and into the streets of the Southside, wishing for _someday_ to come fast.

**Author's Note:**

> You liked it? Click the button "kudos" and/or comment and make my heart skip a beat. Thank you!
> 
> xoxo


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